The change wasn't obvious at first.
It showed up in small things. The kind you noticed only after they repeated themselves.
Ha-rin paused longer in front of the mirror that morning.
Not studying herself—just checking.
"…This one feels tighter," she said, tugging lightly at the hem of her shirt.
"It fit last week," I replied.
"…Exactly."
She changed into something looser without comment.
Breakfast took longer again. Not because she ate more, but because she stopped between bites, listening to herself. When she finished, she leaned back instead of standing immediately.
"…I need a minute," she said.
"Yes."
She didn't look annoyed by the answer this time.
Later, when she reached for something on the top shelf, she stopped halfway.
"…Can you get that," she asked, casually.
"Yes."
She watched me hand it to her.
"…Since when do I ask for help," she muttered.
"Since now," I replied.
"…I don't like it."
"You are not required to," I said. "You are allowed to."
She rolled her eyes, but there was no bite in it.
When we went out, she adjusted her jacket more carefully than before. Not hiding—just accommodating. The fabric sat differently, and she was aware of it.
"…People can't tell," she said.
"No," I replied.
"…Good."
We passed a glass storefront, and her reflection caught her attention for half a second longer than usual. She didn't stop walking.
Just acknowledged it.
"…It's strange," she said. "I don't feel different."
"Change is not always loud," I replied.
"…I wish it was," she said. "At least then I'd know when it started."
"It has already started," I said. "You are simply noticing it now."
She considered that.
"…So this is what they mean," she murmured. "…When people say 'you'll know.'"
"Yes."
She exhaled slowly.
"…I don't hate it," she added, after a moment.
"That is important."
"…I just don't want it to define me."
"It will not," I replied. "It will change you. Those are not the same."
She glanced at me.
"…You're very confident about that."
"I am confident in observation," I said.
She huffed softly.
"…Then observe this," she said, starting to walk again. "I'm still me."
"Yes," I replied. "You are."
The day continued without incident.
No comments.No stares.No revelations.
But the pace had shifted again—just enough to notice.
And this time, she didn't pretend otherwise.